


Trade Mistakes

by darthobi (wentzadeux)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Detective Obi-Wan, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Character Death, Past Padme/Anakin - Freeform, Past Relationships, Poor Obi-Wan, angst in later chapters, he's gonna fuck up a little bit and it's probably gonna cost him, hence the title sorry i'm panic trash, rated for explicit content in later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-10 21:36:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7009057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wentzadeux/pseuds/darthobi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Anakin Skywalker goes missing, it's up to his ex-fiancee Padme to find him. Only, with a senatorial campaign to run, she must reach out to an old friend to take up the job for her...</p><p>Obi Wan Kenobi is a private investigator with the goal of solving his oldest case. When he takes what he imagines is a short break to help his wife's former apprentice out, he ends up with something far bigger than just a missing persons case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Anakin on the Run

“ _Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice sy-_ ”

Padme Amidala sighs as she hangs up, slapping her phone down on the countertop. She pinches the bridge of her nose with two fingers, closing her eyes. 

_It’s been six months, Ani. Where are you?_

Six months since she last heard from her ex-fiance. Normally, this would be a good thing for most ex-fiancees. However, in Padme’s case, it was not.

 

_“Anakin…” Padme said quietly. “We need to talk.”_

_His eyes snapped up from his plate to meet hers. “About?” His tone was confused, but his eyes betrayed that he knew what was about to happen._

_“...I think we should call the engagement off.” His eyes dropped, to her own hands resting on the table, to the glistening engagement ring that sat on her ring finger. “I just think that we’re making a mistake right now, Ani, especially as I’m about to announce my campaign.”_

_Anakin swallowed. “It doesn’t sound like you’ve left much room to consider otherwise,” he murmured, his hands clenching into fists as he breathed out slowly. When he continued, his voice was choked up. “If that is what you want, then.”_

 She remembered that day so clearly, remembered the feeling of relief she had once everything was said and done. What she wouldn’t give for that feeling once more.

“ _Anakin, you still matter too much to me to lose. Promise me you’ll take care of yourself, even if you can’t be in my life anymore.” Her voice had been sad, but sure. She knew this was best for both of them._

_“As long as you can bear to have me around,” Anakin replied, “I’ll be here, however you want me.” He had smiled a few moments afterwards, though it was nowhere near his typical full smile. This was a tight-lipped smirk, that didn’t quite reach his eyes._

 “I should have known then,” she murmurs, leaning against the kitchen counter. _How could I have not expected him to be more upset?_

\---

[ _Six Months Earlier…_ ]

After their initial discussion, things had moved fairly quickly. Anakin had decided to move out of the house they bought together, claiming he would like to have a smaller space to take care of for himself. The reality was that he didn’t have much to call his own; most of what was his was shared with Padme, just as his life was.

Padme had insisted on keeping in touch with Anakin, knowing just how he could forget to take care of himself, whether it be forgetting to take medication, or forgetting a meal.  In the beginning, it had been endearing to her, but now it became a chore.

For a while, Anakin seemed to be wholly invested in meeting Padme’s requests. Then again, that is how things had always been; he was more than happy to follow her lead, if it made her happy. He would obligingly meet her for lunch once every few weeks, or come by the house to help fix this or that around the place. 

Just as things had set into this pattern, a weird and flawed but still comfortable pattern, Anakin had disappeared. He stopped answering his phone, and after a week or so of giving him space, worry had overtaken Padme’s desire to give him space, and she went to his apartment building.

She had only been there once over the last several months, out of respect for his own space, but partially because he had insisted that it was an embarrassing mess. His building was on the far end of town, a good twenty minute walk from her house to get to. Given that the weather was nice on the early May evening, she hadn’t minded the walk, even if it meant more time to worry- er, think. 

Once inside the building, she shrugged off her light jacket and folding it and wrapping it over her arm as she began to climb to the top floor. Upon reaching the third flight, she heard a voice coming from the landing above her.

“Amidala, is that you?” Rex yelled from the top of the staircase, looking down at her.

“Hey, Rex,” she began, continuing up the stairs towards him. “Is Anakin home?”

Rex was shaking his head before she’d even finished. “No, actually,” he replied, looking mildly concerned. “I was about to get in touch with you to see if you two had patched things up or somethin’. I haven’t seen him since Sunday night, and when I got home this morning all of his things were gone. 

She stopped, momentarily distracted by his words. “...Patched things up? Rex, we ended our engagement. It’s not like it was some minor little thing,” Padme sounded miffed.

Rex threw his head back, laughing. “Huh, silly me. I figured the fact that he was still at your beck and call meant that things were just temporary.” His voice had a sharp edge to it, accusing. “He only went to see you three or four times a week, even months after you two ‘called it off.’”

She narrowed her eyes at him, crossing her arms over her chest. “No.” Padme continued to walk up to the top towards Rex, continuing. “I haven’t seen him since Saturday night, when I gave him a ride back here.” Her voice was steely.

“Well, like I said, his stuff is all gone too.” Rex repeated, looking expectantly at Padme. “Excuse me for thinking that things were back on.” 

“Well, they’re not.” She snaps. “But the bigger issue here is that Anakin isn’t answering his phone, neither of us have seen him in almost a week, and now his stuff is all gone?” Worry edges into her tone, wearing away some of its sharpness. “Rex, that’s not good.” Her gaze wandered past Anakin’s roommate, to look out the window at the top of the staircase.

He shrugs. “Maybe he just got tired of just waiting around for you,” he hinted. Her eyes snapped back to his.

“What the hell does that mean?” Desperation seeping into her words, Padme steps towards Rex.

He shrugs, turning away and towards his door. “A man doesn’t stick around a place for that long without expecting some change, Padme. Maybe you need to just let him go.” His voice had softened upon hearing the pleading in her question.

  
Rex had given her a small smile, before opening the door and walking inside, leaving Padme alone in the stairwell.

\--

[ _Present Day_ ]

Back in her house, in the present, having had it with the paranoia and worrying, Padme makes a decision. Heading into her home office upstairs, she flops down into the oversized desk chair and opens one of the drawers in the grand mahogany desk. Shuffling around papers and photos, she finds what she’s looking for. An old address book, pale blue and ratty, obviously not used anymore.

Padme quickly flips through the pages, stopping when she finds the name she is looking for. 

_Kenobi._

Before dialing his number in her phone, she pauses, wondering if it’s worth the time. From what she remembers of the man, all she can do is hope that he can help, personal grievances aside. Padme dials the number, puts the phone to her ear, and waits.

*** 

A shrill ringtone interrupts Obi Wan Kenobi’s thoughts, bringing him back to the present. He sits up in the desk chair, snatching for his phone. An unknown number appears on the screen, making him hesitate.

  
At this moment, only one phone call matters, and it’s one from an Officer Cody, his friend on the police force, hopefully with new details for him. Otherwise, the private inspector couldn’t be bothered to answer a call now, especially after his office hours. 

“Don’t people know how to use a website?” He grumbles, leaning back and setting the phone down, still ringing. After a few minutes, the voicemail machine beeps, indicating that whoever this caller was, they left a message.

Kenobi sighs, reaching once more for the phone and pressing the playback button.

“ _Obi Wan? This is Padme Amidala...Satine’s old frien-”_

He hangs up the phone immediately, stopping the recording, and redialing Padme’s number.

“ _Hello?_ ” She answers, sounding relieved.

“Padme..It’s Obi Wan,” he says, knowing full well that she knows who it is.

“Thank goodness,” she breathes. “I was worried you wouldn’t pick up the phone and I just really need your help.” There’s a pause. “You’re kind of my only hope, Obi Wan.” Padme laughs nervously.

Obi Wan is confused. _How can I possibly help her with anything?_ He wonders, leaning forward to rest his elbow on the desk.

“What can I help you with?” He asks her out loud this time.

Another pause. “I need you to find someone,” she says hesitantly, unsure of what she’s asking.

He grows more confused. “By find you mean….?” _Hunt down? Arrest? What?_

“Find as in...someone close to me disappeared without any kind of goodbye or trace to anyone close to him,” she says cryptically. Obi Wan can almost visualize her biting back what she really wants to say.

“Okay, well, have you filed a missing persons report with the police department?” He asked, pulling out a notepad and a pen from the top desk drawer.

“Well, no-” she begins. “I don’t think he’s necessarily kidnapped-missing. He just took all his things and left without a word to anyone.”

“You may want to start there,” Obi Wan tells her. “That is their job after all.” There is a slight bitterness to his tone, but Padme says nothing.

She sighs instead, frustrated. “No, I can’t do that...Not when I’m campaigning and such, especially.” There’s a pause. “I figured that I could go to you, and it would be a secret more easily kept. It doesn’t look good if people close to me are already disappearing, and I’m not even a senator yet!” Her voice takes on a lighter tone at the end.

 _Ah yes, her political career comes first._ He thinks, reminded of someone else who had been the same way. His chest feels tight as he remembers that someone else, a woman with blonde hair and a soft smile.  

The memory of the blonde woman had convinced him to help Padme. “Of course, I’d be happy to help you, Padme,” he tells her after a few moments, nodding to himself. “But I’ll need more details.”

She breathes out another sigh of relief. “Oh thank you, Obi Wan, you have no idea how wor-” Padme stops abruptly. An awkward silence follows. 

Obi Wan laughs, a short chuckle, to try and break the awkwardness. “I know what you mean. Now, who is this person?" 

“His name is Anakin Skywalker,” She begins, taking a breath. “He went missing about six months ago…”

\---

“-and I just can’t take it anymore, Obi Wan. I’m worried for his sake that he’s not okay. I just need to know he’s okay.” She finishes, her voice quivering.

 “Don’t fret, Padme. I’ll do everything in my power to find him. You have my word.” Obi Wan assures her, brain already kickstarting ideas of how to find the missing young man.

“I know how much that means, Obi Wan. You have my gratitude, more than you know.” Padme’s voice is once again relieved. “Now what are your rates fo-”

  
He cuts her off, a small smile on his face. “Do not worry about that either. Consider it a favor for an old friend.” He reaches to press the power button on his computer. “I’ll be in touch with you soon with some updates.”

They bid their goodbyes, and Obi Wan hangs the phone on the receiver, turning back to his computer.

 _Anakin Skywalker._ He mulls over the name in his head a few times. _It’s unique enough to remember, I suppose, and unique enough that finding him should be no problem at all._

\--- 

As Obi Wan had thought, tracking down the missing man was easy. For him, anyways.

 _Perks of being an ex-cop, I suppose_ , he thought as he keyed through the database page before him.

 

**Skywalker, Anakin**

**Checking Acct. #****-****-****-2187**

**Recent Activity:**

 

Obi Wan peered at the transactions list, noting that most of them were gas stations, creating a trail for him to easily follow.

Easy, that is, until he reached the last transaction:

 

**Jul. 11: Withdrawal………………..New Balance: $0.00**

 

The date was from nearly four months ago, Obi Wan considered. _Did he move to a new account? I didn’t see any others in his name, and he can’t very well open a new one unless he changed his identity._

The man sighed, cracking his neck and straightening up before continuing. “Maybe not as easy as I’d considered.” A sudden wave of exhaustion washed over him, and he looked at the clock to see that it was nearly eight o’clock. Yet he had no desire to leave, not when he had a job to do.

It was true, yes, that he had not wanted to answer the call at first. It had been a few weeks since he completed his last job and really, it had been a brief respite for he had immediately returned to his own case.

Within the last few days though, helplessness had set in as Obi Wan met dead end after dead end. Front after front, false trail after false trail. With Padme’s call, he now had a distraction, albeit a short one, to give him time away so that he may return later with a fresh perspective.

\---

[ _Later_ ]

 _Ah, there we go._ He grinned. _All these purchases are within a ten mile radius, aside from one or two outside of it. It seems Padme’s lost friend found a new place to settle down and hide._  

The town was called Coruscant, and was only a five hour drive from Mandalore, where Obi Wan’s home and office were located. He could head home now, get some rest, and head out bright and early tomorrow morning.

He stood up, stretching his arms over his head and then twisting to crack his back. He grabbed his jacket, a navy blue pea coat, and pulled it on, and twisted a scarf around his neck to protect from the cold almost-winter wind outside.

When he climbed into his car, turning the ignition and waiting to let the vehicle warm up and defrost, he felt the exhaustion that had previously overwhelmed him melt away. _Why be there tomorrow afternoon when I could be there tomorrow morning?_ He thought. _Why bother going home to the empty house once again, when I could be doing something productive?_

In an almost energetic manner, he grabbed the gear shift and threw the car into drive, pulling out of the parking lot. He was halfway out of town when he recalled that he would probably need a change of clothes or two, to fit in with the general public as he looked for Skywalker.

 _Get it together, Kenobi, and act like a damned professional._ He mentally scolds himself, laughing while he takes a u-turn and heads to the small neighborhood where he resides. _It’s not like Skywalker’s going anywhere this late. Another hour won’t cost you anything._

***

Anakin Skywalker stands behind the bar, wiping down a few clean glasses as he watches the clock, waiting for the time where he can be free to return home. As the hour strikes 3 am, he flips a switch, the lights coming on with full brightness in the room.

“Thanks for coming in tonight!” He yells over the dull roar of the room, watching as people, drunk and sober alike, begin to make their ways to the doors. Once the room has cleared out, Anakin lets out a sigh of relief, closing and locking the doors so he can begin to close for the night 

He starts with the bathrooms, grabbing the mop bucket and cleaning supplies. After thoroughly scrubbing the floor, he turns to start on the mirrors, his eyes catching his face in the glass. 

While the change didn’t happen overnight, Anakin is still unused to his appearance like this. His reflection stares back at him, but instead of his old short haircut, his face is framed with messy, curly strands of hair that reach below his chin, loose from the ponytail tied low in the back. Anakin isn’t sure he _likes_ it, but it was something new from the neat cropped style that he’d worn for years before now.

Then there was the scar, pink and shiny. Anakin scowled. _That’s what I get for trying to break up a bar fight, I suppose._ He pulled the hair framing his face back, leaning towards the mirror to get a closer look. _At least the stitches dissolved fully…_

He shook himself out of his thoughts, returning to cleaning. The sooner he finished, the sooner he could get home to sleep, after all. 

\---

As he reaches the front door, Anakin fumbles with his keys to try and find the right one, tiredly unlocking the door and stumbling in. In the darkness, his hand gropes around for the light switch, as he knows that with the mess about the small room, he would surely trip over something on his way to his bed.

One of those things included the dog that came barreling at his knees full force, barking and wagging excitedly, her brown eyes wide with excitement that her master has returned home.

Anakin smiles wearily. “Hi, Snips.” He reaches down to pat the dog’s scruffy head, and then continues on into his room, stripping his outer layers off on the way, and leaving a trail of shoes, gloves, and a jacket across the floor.

He makes a beeline to the bed, flopping down on top of the duvet, face first. Snips follows immediately, hopping up next to him and dropping to her belly next to his outstretched arm. After a moment, the pit bull whimpers and rolls over to curl up against Anakin, making the man smile.

After all, she kept his apartment from being an empty place to come back to, and Anakin very much appreciated that.

 _To think that I almost didn’t have you,_ he thinks, reaching around blindly to pet her, recalling the night he brought her home.

 

 _Three months ago, and a number of random towns back, Anakin walked down a dimly lit street towards his parked car. The search for a suitable job here had become pretty futile, as nobody was willing to hire someone who didn’t have any kind of history here._  

 _“Oh well.” He said to himself, stuffing his hands into his pants pockets, staring off down the street. It was almost a little uncomfortable, he realized, that there was absolutely no one else on the street. It was barely ten o’clock, and in a city like this, there should be more people about._  

_Anakin shrugged the nagging paranoia off, feeling less tense as his car came into view. He quickened his pace, footsteps echoing around him. Upon reaching his car, he was about to pull the door open and duck inside, when he heard a yelp, followed by a crash and snarling._

_Before he could even look to see what the problem was, a streak of brown flashed past him, followed by a few darker blurred shapes. The brown streak halted, spinning to face its pursuers._  

_It was a dog, a skinny little pit bull. Its fur, although dirty and matted looking, was what could be a pretty brindled coat. The dog held a piece of what appeared to be chicken in its mouth, which would explain why the other three dogs had pursued it._

_Anakin stepped to intervene, stomping his foot in the direction of the bigger dogs. “Go on, get out of here!” He shooed them away, waiting until he was sure they had left before turning to the little pit bull standing behind him._

_The dog was already devouring its prize, keeping both eyes on the man in front of it, its lips pulled back in a snarl. Anakin took a tentative step forward, to which the dog let out a soft warning snarl to keep back. He raised his hands in a show of peace, and waited for the dog to finish._

_Once it had finished eating, the dog’s whole demeanor changed. It trotted up to Anakin, wagging its stubby tail. He reached down to pet the dog, and looked over to make sure it wasn’t hurt._  

_After confirming that the dog was both not injured, and a female, Anakin stepped back, patting the dog’s head. “Alright, well, you seem to be okay.” He said, starting to head back to the car. A soft footfall followed, and he turned to see the dog right behind him, wagging slowly._

_“Ah, okay, uh, go home now?” He said. The dog tilted her head, waiting. Anakin tried again. “You can’t come with me girl, I’m uh, homeless.” She wagged again, hopeful._

_Anakin sighed. “I’m actually talking to a dog. I may have gone and totally lost it.” He shakes his head. Turning again, he goes to open the car door, when a soft whine interrupts him. Without even looking at the dog, he rolls his eyes and stands aside._

_“Fine. FINE. It’s not like I can hardly take care of myself, let alone a dog, but come on.” He barely has to gesture for the dog to go before she’s sitting upright in the passenger seat, wagging furiously._

_Climbing in the driver’s seat, he can’t help but grin. “Alright, Snips, let’s go then,” he says as he turns the key in the ignition, the noise of the engine starting and revving echoing through the dark street._

 

Now, he sits upright, still absently petting the dog. A year ago, he would’ve been laying in the king size bed in his and Padme’s room at their house, curled up next to Padme like Snips curls up beside him now.

Immediately, he tries to expel the thought from his mind.

_This is my life now, no point in looking back._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to Tonya (ao3: dealio // tumblr: obli-wan-kenobli) and Stella (ao3: nuit // tumblr: little-jedi) for the inspiration for this fic, as well as constantly kicking my butt to go write. I highly recommend their fics, make sure to check them out <3
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated, and please feel free to point out any errors within the writing. Feel free to harass me on tumblr at darthobi!


	2. Drunk People are the Worst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin has a pretty boring day, up until he goes to work for the night. Obi Wan, however, works his tail off to come up with...nothing. Having had enough, he takes a break for a drink. (Or three). And so on.

With a yawn, Obi Wan pulled his car to a stop at the curb, idling for a moment. He pulled the map up on his phone once again, wondering why he was unable to find the damn hotel he’d been looking for.

_ Okay, maybe one more night’s sleep at home couldn’t have hurt…  _ He yawned again. In the darkness, he looked for the nearest street sign to try and help him find where the hell he was exactly. Once he had confirmed where he was, he could figure out where he  _ should _ be. 

“So...I just need to turn left up here and then a right turn after that. Only off by a few blocks…” His voice broke the silence surrounding him. He returned the car to the road, cruising slowly down the street and looking around.

There was the occasional streetlight, casting a yellow-white glow in the darkness; however, they were few and far between, leaving more dark gaps than there were lights. The downtown area was very much closed for the evening, lights off, doors locked and blinds pulled over storefront windows. It appeared that the only place open at this time of night was a bar, across the street from his hotel, which he realized as he turned the corner.

_ The Cantina _ , the flashing neon sign read. The building was rather plain on the outside, painted a generic beige or tan color, and nestled in between two larger department stores. A group of people exited the bar as Obi Wan drove past, drunk and laughing.

When he made it around the next few blocks to his hotel, he was more than ready to settle in for the night and begin his search for Anakin the next day. Once he had retrieved the key from the front desk, he headed for the small room with his bags in hand, the exhaustion from far earlier setting over him again.

Opening the door, he fumbled for the light switch. After a moment, the singular overhead light flickered on, bringing a warm glow to the small room. A queen-size bed was in the far corner, which was Obi Wan’s sole destination at this point. He barely remembered locking the door behind him, let alone dropping his bags and coat to the floor, and kicking his shoes off before he dove into the bed, letting sleep overtake him instantly.

***

Anakin feels something prodding at his side. He grumbles, rolling over and pulling his pillow over his face.

“Not now, Snips,” he tries to push the dog away. She whines back at him, pawing at the pillow.

_ Maybe if I don’t move she’ll leave me alone,  _ He considers. After a few moments, she whines again, trying to nose under the pillow.

He groans. “Fine, FINE.” Swinging his legs over to the side of the bed, Anakin sits up, blinking the sleep from his eyes. A quick glance at the small alarm clock on the nightstand tells him that it’s one pm, far past a reasonable time for one to sleep. 

_ Then again, I did work until nearly four,  _ He recalls. It was still such an odd lifestyle for him after the years he’d spent working the nine-to-five, to come home and have dinner with Padme. It was more reminiscent of his childhood, what with the moving around and small places and weird sleep schedules.

An impatient bark interrupts his thinking, and he looks down at Snips staring expectantly at him. She wags her stubby tail, brown eyes wide. 

“Alright alright, I’ll get your breakfast, er, lunch,” He slides off the bed, his bare feet slapping the hard wood floor. Heading into the small kitchen, he grabs the plastic bowl that he’d been using for Snips’ food, and sets it on the countertop while he looks for the bag of dog chow. 

Once he’s fed Snips, he absently walks around the apartment, tidying up. A stray shirt laying here, an empty glass left there, his outerwear strewn across the living area. Content with his quick cleaning, he decides to sit back on the couch and enjoy some downtime.

The minute he sits back, Snips is immediately curled up at his side, in a manner more feline than canine. Anakin laughs, petting the top of her head. “I wouldn’t have thought you would be  _ this  _ clingy!”

He grabs the remote, turning the small television on and absently channel surfing. He stops on one channel for a moment, halting as he recognizes the name of the show on the little guide on the tv screen. It was a fairly popular drama that had been on for a few years, one of the generic cop shows that everyone seemed to love so much. 

Everyone, including Padme.

Anakin can’t help but watch, while remembering the nights spent watching this same show with his ex-fiancee. They would sit, over dinner or takeout, and make bets on who the bad guy was, or how the dashing young main character and his crew would save the day again. Anakin was almost always wrong, but on the rare occasion he wasn’t, he’d tease Padme about it until the next time, when he’d be wrong again.

That was how it was. Anakin was okay with being wrong, as long as Padme was right.

Sitting there, he tries to focus on the show. It was an old episode, one he remembered well.

The lead character was on the case to find a gang leader, and had just about gotten to him when he discovered that his fiancee had been kidnapped by the gang, in an effort to get him off their tails.

Anakin remembers how he had hugged Padme closer, wondering how that felt, to know that someone that evil held the one you loved most, and it was because of you. He had tangibly felt the fear gathering in his stomach, and so he pushed the thought away, trying to focus on the plot as Padme talked.

As he sat there, more memories of this show and Padme surfaced in his memory, and for the first time in a few days, he allowed himself to wallow in them.

 

_ After a long day of work, Padme would curl into his side, his arm slung around her shoulders. Her arms would wrap around his waist, a soft smile on her face as she gazed up at him, believing he was so engaged in watching the show that he wouldn’t notice... _

_ Or the evenings where they focused less on the television and more on each other; the soft couch cushions underneath his back as he looked up at her, his hands on her hips and her hands on his chest as she leaned down to press her lips to his… _

_ Lazy Sunday mornings, the only day where Padme would truly not have to work. The morning spent in bed, legs entwined, touching skin to skin… _

 

He really hadn’t noticed until a bit of time had passed that he was crying. The familiar ache in his chest was cold and painful, all the more urging the man to curl up and cry more to relieve the never-ending sadness. 

Eight months had passed since he last called himself Padme’s. Padme’s fiance, her future husband, her best friend...None of that was true anymore. 

And it wouldn’t be, not ever again. Not after this stunt he’d pulled.

_ Stupid, I should have never left.  _ He berated himself, feeling the heat of anger overtake the cold sadness.  _ I should’ve stayed, I should’ve tried harder to get her back, I should’ve done anything but run.  _ Teeth gritted, fists clenched tightly at his sides, Anakin felt more hot tears splash on his face.  _ I left the one good thing I had left in my life, and for what? To feel like I could do fine on my own? _

He tried to desperately clamp down on the anger that was overwhelming him, anger at himself.  _ No good can come from this,  _ he thought, attempting to ease his mind. Focusing on his breathing until he relaxed, Anakin closed his eyes and attempted to clear his mind. 

Ignoring the ache in his chest, he stood up, earning him a disgruntled groan from Snips, who had been anxiously resting her head on his thigh. He gave the dog a weak smile before heading to the bathroom to shower before he had to go out for the day.

After waiting a ridiculously long time for the water to heat up, Anakin stepped out of the shower, wrapping a fluffy black bathrobe over his shoulders, tying the fabric around his waist to hold it in place. It seemed almost futile, as the minute he opened the bathroom door, the cooler air from the living room hit him, making him shiver. 

Teeth chattering, he pulled the top drawer of the small dresser open, grabbing for the first suitable pair of jeans and boxers, pulling them on with haste. As he pulled a sweatshirt over his head, he noted that the jeans were almost too short to be wearing any more, feeling the cool air on the bottom of his shins. He frowned, looking for a different pair, only to realize that they were all dirty. 

_ Damn, guess I’m headed to the laundromat today.  _ He thought, adding it to the mental list of mundane things to do before work this evening. 

He turned, grabbing his black down winter jacket from where it was hanging on the doorknob and putting it on. The puffy coat would not have been his first (or second or third) choice for a jacket, but even in all its marshmallow-looking ridiculousness, it kept him warm.

That’s what Padme had insisted when she got it for him last Christmas. 

 

“ _ Ani, that leather jacket isn’t going to keep you warm in the slightest when it snows next!” She giggled at the look of forced gratitude on his face. Padme kneeled on the ground across from where Anakin sat cross-legged, the unwrapped jacket in his hands.  _

_ Her laughter alone pulled at the corners of his mouth, and he fought the smile that was creeping onto his face. He tried to hold a mask of faux disgust at the jacket, which wouldn’t have been hard had Padme not been laughing like she was now. _

_ Padme won out, his lips turning up in a full grin. “It’s not...too bad, I guess,” he tries to sound gruff and nonchalant. She laughs harder, leaning forward and wrapping her arms around the back of his neck to pull him in for a soft, tender kiss. _

_ As their lips touched, the warmth Anakin felt from the fire crackling in the stone fireplace behind him seemed to intensify. Where her hands touched the back of his neck, weaving her fingers into his short hair, he felt each touch like a warm kiss to his skin. He felt as if his whole body was on fire, not in an unpleasant way, as she crawled into his lap, her lips never leaving his.  _

That familiar heat creeping through his body jolted him out of his reverie, returning him to the present.  _ No need to start that today, I’ve got things to do, _ he tried to laugh it off.

\---

His hood drawn tight around his head, Anakin ducked out into the cold, closing the door behind him. The small paper bag nestled in his arms contained this evening’s dinner, which was Chinese takeout. Anakin rolled the top of the brown bag down to conserve some of the heat against the bitter cold, knowing full well it was possible for the food to cool down before he made it back home.

His now clean laundry was nestled in his backpack slung over one shoulder, stuffed as full as he could manage without breaking the zipper. The satisfaction of finishing all the things on his to-do list left him feeling satisfied, and far more relaxed than he had when he got up earlier that morning. 

Snips greeted him at the door, barking and wagging as he stepped into the apartment. She sniffed at the bag in his arms, trying to jump up and get a better look. He sidestepped, headed towards the kitchen to set the bag down safely in the middle of the counter, away from the dog’s reach.

After throwing the clean laundry haphazardly into his small dresser, he returned to the couch with his dinner. He flipped the TV on, making sure to change from the channel he’d left it on previously. He felt a sense of familiarity, sitting alone in the dark room as he ate dinner. It was what he remembered from the end of his and Padme’s relationship.

 

_ “Sorry Ani,” the text message read. “I have to stay and go over some budget things for the campaign. Rain check on dinner? I love you so much.”  _

_ Anakin sighed, tossing the phone on the couch and flopping down on it, the cushions and springs protesting.  _ So much for making dinner for the two of them,  _ He thought, his plans for the romantic dinner ruined.  _ It’s only a stupid date, we can celebrate our anniversary a day late. It won’t hurt anything.

_ His feet dragging, he got up to put the groceries he’d bought to make dinner that night in the fridge, not feeling like cooking for himself. After rummaging around for a few minutes, he gave up and decided to call in for takeout, so at least he could relax and kick his feet up as he waited for his fiancee to return home for the evening.  _

_ She’d made it up to him the next night, returning home from work a half hour early and even getting dressed up for their dinner date at home. Anakin had smiled at her as she walked in the room wearing one of his favorite dresses, her hair falling over her shoulders in beautiful curls. _

_ “Am I forgiven?” She asks, her tone only half joking as she walked over to him in the kitchen, leaning over the counter to watch him prepare their meal.  _

_ He grinned. “How in my right mind could I say no, when you look at me like that, while looking so beautiful?” She laughed, the sound of it making him grin. _

_ “Don’t overdo it, Skywalker, I can see your intentions,” She teased, smirking. _

_ Anakin looked away, feigning an innocent look. “Why, Ms. Amidala, I have no idea what you mean by that! I am shocked that you would make such an assumption, that I would compliment you only to get into your pants-” _

_ Padme rolls her eyes. “Yeah, because that worked  _ so  _ well for you when we first met!” She teases, reminding him of his initial failed attempts at wooing her.  _

_ He’s beyond being embarrassed by it, though, as he sets the spoon he was stirring with down and walks over to her side to lean and whisper in her ear, “Joke’s on you, I still won you over, even with the mediocre flirting!”  _

_ Wrapping his arms around her sideways, he presses a few quick kisses to the side of her neck, smirking as her breath catches, and she almost instinctively tilts her head to give him more access. He steps back, a smug smirk on his face now.  _

_ “Can’t let dinner burn now, or I’ll be asking for your forgiveness this time!” Padme sticks her tongue out at him, returning to lean back on the countertop to watch him.  _

 

Before he realizes it, his food has gotten cold while he sat and dwelled in the past. With a frustrated sigh, he drags a hand through his messy hair, annoyed. 

“I’ve been better the last few weeks without thinking about her,” He grumbled, grabbing the carton and carrying it to the old microwave tucked between the fridge and the wall on the counter. “I don’t understand why I’m falling back into old habits.”

***

Finishing off his third drink, Obi Wan set the empty glass down on the bar and slid off the stool, in search of a bathroom. He stumbled, regaining his balance rather quickly for one in his slightly-drunken state. 

It was needless to say that his search for his quarry was all but a complete failure that day. It seemed that nobody had heard of Anakin, which was surprising considering it seemed he had lived here for the last three months. 

With Obi Wan’s luck, Anakin could have left town around the time that he closed his card, leaving him with no trail to follow.  This thought is what finally sent Obi Wan to the bar he had passed on his way into town last night, thinking he deserved a drink for his troubles. 

In the bathroom, he leaned over the sink, splashing cool water on his face. His reflection in the mirror reflected his slightly disheveled face, water now dripping from his beard. The cool water did nothing to help the room spinning, and only made him look like that much more of a mess.

The door flung open behind him, and in stalked a tall, messy-haired blonde, grumbling. Obi Wan hardly reacted aside from a slight raise of an eyebrow, as he watched the other man stomp over to the sink beside him.

“Fucking drunks,” he muttered, grabbing a towel and dabbing at a wet spot on his rather tight black t shirt, a detail Obi Wan casually noticed. He quickly brought his gaze up to meet the other man’s eyes. The blonde gave a sarcastic laugh.

  
“You’d think after a few months, I’d know how to manage around some drunk assholes,” he joked, his gaze still locked on Obi Wan’s in the mirror. “But no, apparently my bartender super-reflexes haven’t kicked in enough yet.” 

Obi Wan snorted. “It might take more than a few months of being a bartender for that kind of reflex,” he joked. “You might seek professional training for that.” His own months of training flashed in his mind, remembering just how long it took before his reflexes were as good as they are now. 

His companion laughed, shaking the water off of his hands and turning away from the sink. “I guess you’re right.” He turned to Obi Wan, a slight smirk quirking the side of his mouth. A slight, cocky,  _ attractive  _ smirk, Obi Wan realizes drunkenly, his gaze locked on it. 

The blonde, instead of looking away, only smirks more, tilting his head slightly. “A photo would last longer,” he jokes. 

Obi Wan shakes his head, feeling a blush rise to his face. “I may be drunker than I realize. My apologies” He slurs his words slightly as he forces his gaze up to the other man’s.

“No worries.” Obi Wan felt his pulse quicken slightly as the other man quickly looked him up and down, that stupid grin on his face still. He swallowed, now feeling the alcohol’s effect on him, and he fought the urge to stare at the blonde’s tight tee shirt, or his hair, his face….Basically, just the urge to stare at him. 

“Anyways,” he continued, clapping a hand on Obi Wan’s shoulder. “Enjoy the bar, the music, whatever.” Obi Wan felt his heart skip again as the man winked, then turned to walk out the door.

***

Once the door had slammed shut behind him, Anakin groaned, standing in the quiet hallway leading back to the loud bar. 

“Way to totally creep on a drunk dude, Skywalker!” He chided himself, burying his face in his hands. “Hot, but drunk…” Anakin mutters as an afterthought.

“Skywalker?” An accented voice interrupted. The other man had walked out of the bathroom, a slight stagger in his steps as he walked down the hall. 

Anakin jerked his head up.  _ Shit.  _ His heart thrummed in his chest. He had made sure nobody knew his name here, going by nicknames unless absolutely necessary.  _ See, your childish game caught up with you. Be a man, stop hiding behind a false name! _

“That’s a different name,” the drunk man continued, laughing. “But I suppose I can’t judge, I’ve got a weird one too.” He stumbled, reaching to grab the wall to steady himself, instead falling face-first onto the floor.

Anakin’s eyes widened. “Shit, that must hurt,” he said as he crouched down next to the man, rolling him over to make sure his nose wasn’t broken or something. Once he’d confirmed this, he sighed, pulling the man into his arms and hoisting him up over his shoulder, grunting under the strain of holding him. “Fucking drunks. Like I said.” 

***

About a half a day later, Obi Wan woke in his hotel room, his head pounding. He squeezed his eyes shut, rolling over and pulling a pillow over his head to block the weak sunlight filtering through the cheap curtains. 

“That was so not good,” he groans, his face buried in the pillows. After a few moments, he sits up, blinking and wincing from the increased pounding in his head.  _ I need to find my phone,  _ he thinks blearily, looking around.

As he shuffles around the small room, memories come back in small bursts from the previous night. The small glass of whiskey had turned into a few more, followed by shots with a few of the people he’d made friends with in his inebriated state. 

He stopped, remembering the attractive man from the bathroom, the one he’d run into at the end of the night. Messy, dirty-blond hair, a tight black shirt, that fucking smirk…Then no recollection afterwards.

Obi Wan shook his head, returning to his task at hand. He had a nagging feeling there was  _ something _ significant that had happened that was escaping his memory at the moment. 

“Did I try and hook up with him or something?” He wondered aloud. While it wasn’t uncommon for that to happen back when he was in college, it was a behavior he hadn’t engaged in since he was about 25, nearly ten years ago. 

His question was subsequently answered when he found a note scrawled on a piece of hotel stationary on the table by the door, his phone and wallet beside it.

_ Hi, _

_ I’m the guy from the bar last night- you more or less passed out on me in the hall and I got you back here. Sorry, I had to look in your wallet to see who you were or where to actually return you to, but I promise I didn’t steal anything. You can check. _

_ (I can’t guarantee there aren’t weird pictures on your phone, though. Kidding, at least on weird pictures from me.) _

_ Looks like my reflexes aren’t even close to good, seeing as I first got a beer spilled down my shirt, then let a dude faceplant into that nasty carpet right before my eyes.  _

_ Anyways, hopefully you’re hungover enough to reconsider the sheer amount of alcohol you consumed last night. Don’t worry about your tab. _

 

Obi Wan had to read the note about three times to really comprehend. It was more of a small letter than a note, really, but Obi Wan didn’t mind. 

What he did mind is that his mystery savior hadn’t signed the note, leaving him with no idea how to find him to thank him other than going back to the bar. Which he really didn’t want to do, considering the situation he ended up in last night. Thank god for kind strangers, especially kind  _ hot _ strangers. 

However, the nagging feeling hadn’t left him yet, which only increased his frustration.  _ I’ll figure it out soon enough,  _  he thought, deciding to take it easy, and stay in the hotel room for the day.  _ Just after this headache goes away. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter two! I promise the flashbacks won't be as frequent as the story goes on. I just love to use them to make my poor characters miserable. (Sorry not sorry, Anakin.)
> 
> Thank you for the kudos and comments, I love every one of you <3


	3. Someone Gets an Ass-Kicking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Obi Wan deals with a nasty hangover, Anakin waits for him back at the bar, hoping they'll meet (sober) again.

Anakin leaned against the bar, swirling around a glass of water. Unlike the loud chaos of the previous night, the music was low, and the blinds over the windows were open, allowing the faint sunlight to filter through. It was early evening, the bar having just opened. People drifted in, a few at a time, as the day inched closer to night.

When the bartender passed him a beer bottle, he nodded his thanks and took his drinks to a table in the back corner, his usual seat. He slid into the booth, sitting sideways so that his long legs draped across the whole bench, hanging off the ends a bit.

For a moment, he surveyed the room, casually looking at the crowd inside the bar. A few regulars stood out to him, people he’d seen almost nightly since he moved here three months ago. 

He’d be lying to himself if he tried to deny that he was looking for a certain reddish-haired man, the one he’d helped out last night. Who knows, maybe he’d come in, be grateful, want to share a drink or two with Anakin, and then maybe they could sneak off into the office...Anakin blushed slightly, then looked around, embarrassed at himself. 

_ Maybe _ he’d been thinking about the guy from last night a little too much. He shrugged, taking a swig from the bottle.  _ It’s not like I’ve had much action at all lately, can’t blame me for being a little tightly wound. _ Settling back to wait, he recalls how the previous night had ended.

 

_ Anakin grunted, trying to pull the door open while balancing the unconscious stranger in his arms. His head lolled on Anakin’s shoulder, his face towards Anakin’s neck. He could feel the slow breaths of the other man on his skin, which wasn’t an entirely uncomfortable thing.  _

_ The hard part was then crossing the crowded room to get to the office, where he could set the man down to call a cab to take him home, wherever that may be. He tightened his arms, holding the man more securely and walking quickly through the crowd. _

_ Once inside the office, Anakin gently set him down across the small loveseat in the back corner. He realized that in order to send him home, he’d have to figure that out.  _ Driver’s license should have that info on it,  _ he thought, reaching down to find a wallet on the man.  _

_ Anakin sighed, seeing that neither of the two front pockets contained a wallet or anything of the sort. He felt heat rise up his neck as he reached underneath the man, quickly withdrawing his hand once he had found a brown leather wallet in one of the back pockets of his jeans. _

_ Flipping the wallet open, a driver’s license was the first thing that caught Anakin’s eye. He pulled it out, laughing. “Obi Wan Kenobi,” he said, grinning. “He wasn’t kidding, he has a name as odd as mine!”  _

_ Anakin turned the small card over, to see the address listed. It was in a town called Mandalore, which was hours away at best. _

_ He frowned. “There’s no way he drove this far out to come to some shitty bar.” Anakin pawed through the other contents of the wallet, and spotted a keycard from the hotel a few blocks over.  _

_ “There we go,” he murmured, shoving the wallet into his own jeans pocket with his own, making the pocket look unnecessarily bulky and ridiculous. He shrugged.  _ I’ll look more ridiculous carrying him outside,  _ he thought.  _

_ Checking his phone, he noticed that it was nearly three o’clock. Thankfully, this had all occurred close to closing, so Anakin was free to see the man home himself.  _

_ He headed back into the bar, pulling the office door closed behind him. Closing wouldn’t take so long tonight, as he’d cleaned earlier.  _

_ Once all the other patrons had been cleared, and everything had been prepped for the following morning, Anakin returned to the office. Obi Wan still lay out on the couch, snoring now. A small smile touched Anakin’s lips, as he scooped him up and headed out the door. _

_ After a block, he felt exhaustion setting in. “Wish I was the drunk one,” he groaned, heaving Obi Wan up over his shoulder more securely, again.  _ Then again, it’s just pure luck that I’m a half-decent guy and taking care of him,  _ Anakin thought. By the time he had crossed over to the street where the mall hotel was, he was panting. _

_ After Anakin had gotten him back in his room, he had left a brief note explaining how he’d ended up back in the hotel. He had begun to sign his name, when realizing that he’d rather just leave it, hoping Obi Wan would come find him once he saw the note. _

 

Unsuccessful in his search, he sat back, taking a swig from the bottle. He had nothing to do for the night, so he may as well just wait around for a bit and see. 

\---

Begrudgingly, Obi Wan rolled out of bed. After a few hours of laying around and waiting for his hangover to go away, it was time to get back to work.

He pulled his laptop out of its case, setting it on the small table in the corner of the room. He drummed his fingers impatiently on the keyboard, waiting for the computer to turn on. The small room was silent aside from the  _ tap-tap-tap-tap _ coming from his impatient movement; after a few moments in silence, Obi Wan grabbed the TV remote and turned it on, to have some sort of background noise.

During his morning, er- afternoon, of recovering, he had tried his hardest to piece together what had exactly transpired the evening before. So far, he’d pieced together that he had left the bar at some point to go to the bathroom, and there was a guy with blonde hair. After that point, though, his memory is fuzzy.

With a frustrated groan, Obi Wan runs his hand through his hair, irritated that he’d allowed himself to become so drunk that he lost control like that. He had tried to stay away from drinking  _ that _ much for years now, not wanting to return to his near-alcoholism in the years following his resigning from the police force.

When his thoughts threatened to lead towards a very different blonde, he stopped short, returning his focus back to his work. He pulled open the file, looking through once more what he’d discovered after Padme had called him initially.

For some reason, the  _ something _ that had been nagging at him previously had returned, and he stared at the screen in front of him, wondering what had triggered this feeling. His eyes locked onto the name on the screen.

**Anakin Skywalker**

The hand running through his hair now tugged at it, as he gritted his teeth.  _ Damn my drunken idiot self,  _ he thinks. For some reason, the blonde from last night pops into his mind, and he can now remember more facial features. The smirk, the strange scar over his eye…The memory becomes even more clear as he remembers the taller man smirking down at him, and a tight black t shirt that even now had him shifting uncomfortably as he felt a twitch in his pants.

Obi Wan grits his teeth, trying to focus on the task at hand.  _ This entire job has been the exact opposite of what I had imagined,  _ he thinks.  _ The sooner I can get this done, the sooner I can get back to the Sith case _ . 

As he continues to try and narrow things down to find Anakin, his mind begins to wander once more. Memories of white-blonde hair draped over pillows, rich laughter in an early morning, a slender hand gripping his own filter through his thoughts, and as usual, he feels a dull ache in his heart. Sighing, Obi Wan leans back in the chair, and allows himself a few moments to dwell in the past.

His lips quirk up in a sad smile, as he thinks back to the memory that had slipped into his thoughts.

 

_ The mid-morning sunlight cast a bright white patch across the bed, and across the two in it. Obi Wan lay facing the window, eyes closed and a soft, peaceful smile on his face as he leans forward to rest the top of his head on top of a certain white-blonde’s head. _

_ His arms wrap around her waist, hands resting on her soft skin. She stirs, inhaling deeply and snuggling back into him. _

_ “Good morning, love,” he murmurs, unwilling to break the peaceful silence in the grand room.  _

_ “Good morning,” she replies sleepily, twisting in his arms to turn and face him. She presses a quick kiss to his nose, his smile widening. “Did you sleep well?” _

_ He opens his eyes to meet her crystal-blue ones. “I did, in fact.” There is a light, teasing air to his tone as he reaches one hand up to bring to the side of her face, brushing a strand of hair back. “And you?” _

_ “It was a rather restful night’s sleep, after I was able to finally get to that point,” she murmurs, watching how the sunlight plays in his hair. She runs her hands up his chest, resting them between the two of them, and scoots closer. One of his hands is splayed across her bare lower back, their legs tangled under the soft down comforter and silken sheets. _

_ With his other hand, he gently traces a small crescent-shaped mark on her collarbone, to which she playfully glares at him.  _

_ “Looks like I won’t be wearing any sleeveless or open-necked dresses for a few days,” She tries to sound scolding, but giggles when he bends his neck down to gently kiss the spot, then nip at it lightly. _

_ “My apologize, Mrs. Kenobi,” he says, some genuine apology in there somewhere. His heart feels full, soaring and happy as he says this, reminded that they are finally married.  _

_ “I’m not sorry about it,” his wife says softly, winding her hands up now behind his neck and into his hair. “In fact, I think that I could use another to match….” She tugs lightly on the hair in her fingers, teasing. _

_ He smirks, his voice rumbling deeper now. “That can be arranged, I suppose.” _

_ Pressing his lips to hers, he brings both hands behind her, pulling her flush against him. Her hands slide further up in his hair, as she smiles into the kiss. After a few moments, she gently pulls his bottom lip in between her teeth. His eyes open to meet hers, darkening with growing lust.  _

_ Rolling them over, he hovers over her now, not breaking the increasingly heated kiss. Her hands tug on his hair again, pulling him closer to her once more. _

 

Obi Wan stops there, not wanting to have to deal with the resulting situation from fully reliving that memory. He gazes out the window, at the now pouring rain outside, so different from the warm, tropical light from his memory. 

Instead of returning to work, his thoughts now drift towards a very different blond; muscular, tall, all hard angles where the blonde in his memory was slender and soft. He couldn’t help but wonder why this man continued to be in his thoughts, as if there was something significant-

Then it hit him.

 

_ “Way to totally creep on a drunk dude, Skywalker!” The blonde groaned, leaning against the wall. _

_ “Hot, but drunk….” Obi Wan hears him mutter, and feels a flash of heat in his cheeks. _

Skywalker...Something about that name... _ He tried to recall its significance but couldn’t be damned at this point. The blonde looked up at him, his blue eyes wide, obviously not noticing his presence until now. _

_ Obi Wan realizes he had spoken the name aloud back, as he walked towards the blond. He thinks of something to add on as the other man looks at him. “That’s a different name,” he laughs. “But I suppose I can’t judge, I’ve got a weird one too…” _

_ He stumbles over a fold in the cheap carpeting in the hall, and in a drunken slash delayed response, reaches for the wall, for anything to stabilize himself.  _

_ Then, nothing. _

 

“God  _ dammit! _ ” Obi Wan curses, jumping to his feet and grabbing his jacket. “It was the fucking bartender!”

Slipping his jacket and shoes on, he whirls out the door, slamming it behind him.  _ I hope he’s back there tonight, _ he thinks.  _ Then I can get this over with. _

\---

Waving goodnight to the bartender, Anakin walks out the door at closing. He’s pleasantly buzzed; after a few hours of waiting around for Obi Wan to come in, he had given up, and tried to enjoy himself. 

_ Eh well, probably wouldn’t have been much anyways.  _ He thinks, trying to cover the faint sting of rejection he feels in his chest.  _ I bet he’s totally unattractive sober.  _

Stumbling over a crack in the sidewalk, he catches himself on the side of the building, grinning.  _ I’m not  _ that  _ drunk, then!  _ He laughs to himself, recalling Obi Wan face-planting into the carpet the night before. Then, the realization dawns on him that he is  _ that _ guy, walking around in the middle of the night, buzzed and laughing to himself. This quiets him, as he continues home, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention.

After fumbling with the keys only twice, Anakin slowly trudges into the apartment, exhaustion beginning to seep into his limbs. He’s about three steps from the sweet relief of sleep and his nice, comfy bed, when a sharp and irritated bark halts him.

Snips is sitting in the doorway, wiggling and wagging her tail. He groans. “Fuuuuuuuck, okay, let’s take you outside before bed then!”

It takes him a bit to maneuver back down the four flights of stairs to the ground floor, while trying to keep an overexcited Snips from  _ pulling  _ him down herself. He pushes open the lobby door, and this time can barely hold on to the blue leash in his hand as his dog darts out, making a beeline for the grass outside.

Anakin waits, feeling the effort behind each individual blink of his tired eyes, standing just outside the soft halo of yellow light coming from the doorway to the building. He can hear Snips sniffing around in the darkness a few feet away.

Between the alcohol buzzing through his veins and the exhaustion from no sleep between last night and now, he is all but ready to just curl up on the grass, never mind that he forgot his jacket inside and is shivering through the thin cotton tee shirt he has on.

While caught up in this particular idea, he hardly notices that the leash slips from his slackened grip; Snips hardly notices either, as she continues to happily sniff around the yard, her tail lazily wagging.

All of a sudden, Anakin sees a blur of fur dart around the corner of the building, immediately followed by sharp barking as Snips takes off into the darkness. 

“Son of a-!” He curses, staggering into a lazy run after his energetic dog, cursing himself for insisting on taking her out.  _ Could’ve just cleaned up whatever messes she made in the morning, and gone to sleep now!  _ He thinks irritably.

Anakin stops dead, catching up to the small pit bull near the parking lot behind the building, where she stands, growling at a figure in the shadows. He can almost feel the fire of adrenaline replacing the cool, lazy alcohol in his body, as he tenses.

The figure takes a step forward; Snips, while growling, cowers slightly, stepping back towards Anakin. He nearly  _ snarls _ , feeling the dog’s tension and fear, as he clenches his hand into a tight fist, cocking it back and preparing to punch the shadowy person.

\---

Obi Wan is only momentarily disoriented as a hard fist connects with his cheek, snapping his face to one side. 

“Hey, wa-” he begins to hiss, then realizes he should duck as another fist comes towards his face. He steps back quickly, out of range, tensed and ready to react again.

What he wasn’t ready for is the other man to come running headfirst at him, driving a shoulder into Obi Wan’s chest and tackling him to the ground. They hit the grass, Obi Wan grunting as he is jolted against the ground and then the man above him.

His instincts kick in, however, and he hooks a leg around, and pushes himself upwards so that he flips them, now pinning down his opponent.

Weak light casts over them from a streetlight nearby, and Obi Wan can barely glimpse a mess of tangled hair, and a pair of bright blue eyes staring up at him.

“It’s  _ you _ ?” The man below him spits out, his voice tight and angry. “Obi Wan?”

This causes Obi Wan to freeze momentarily. “How did you know my na-OH.” He is cut off as a knee jabs into his stomach, making him wheeze involuntarily. His hands only tighten around the other’s wrists, preventing him from being kicked away.

“So I fucking help you home and you  _ stalk _ me?” Obi Wan’s grip slackens as his opponent knees him again, accentuating his words. A third kick connects, sending him sprawling back into the darkness.

Obi Wan jumps to his feet, not a moment too soon, as a hand grabs for him. His hands come up to block his face, swatting the other hand away. In the dim light, he recognizes the man from last night.

“Anakin wait-” He tried to subdue the other, still keeping his fighting stance just in case. However, his words seemed to only egg the younger man on, as he grabbed again at Obi Wan.

This time, a large hand wrapped around his wrist, trying to drag him towards the taller man. Obi Wan twisted, turning his arm downwards and attempting to twist Anakin’s arm enough that he would release him. This worked, if only for Anakin to quickly react and attempt to grab him by the other arm.

Obi Wan blocked him again, following up with a right handed jab. He winces a little as it connects with Anakin’s jaw, around the same place in which he’d been hit. This was his first offensive move, as he tries to subdue while Anakin is out to attack. 

  
Anakin staggers back, less controlled in his reactions than Obi Wan. Adrenaline is pumping through his body now, any remnants of the alcohol from earlier gone. He is fearful of why this man has followed him here, and that fear ignites a fierce, angry need to fight him off. 

He lunges again, driving Obi Wan backwards now towards the building. Obi Wan is tense against him as he slams the shorter man into the brick wall, a hand on his chest attempting to hold him there.

At this point, Obi Wan begins to feel anger ignite in himself, anger and annoyance at this  _ boy _ , who will not listen to reason. As Anakin pulls his arm back, fist clenched, Obi Wan lashes an arm out, now jabbing at the taller man’s neck. 

Anakin gasps, a rough and harsh coughing sound as the fist connects with his throat, and he drops, hands covering where the older man had hit him. He is further taken off guard as he’s quickly shoved forward, chest pressed against the ground, a knee pressed on his back between his shoulder blades and his hands flat on the grass.

The pain in his throat keeps him from struggling; the exhaustion he’d fought off slowly seeps back into him, and he gives up, waiting for another painful blow. 

It doesn’t come; instead, he simply hears a voice next to his ear, low and rough. “Are you quite finished?”

Anakin coughs. “Who are you,” he asks. “And how the hell do you know who I am?” 

The knee on his back digs in, pressing him closer to the ground. “Well, seeing as you already know my name, and what I can remember from last night, I presume you mean ‘ _ Why were you lurking by my building?’ _ ” 

The lovely voice is still harsh, though losing some of the rough edge. Anakin recalled that this was the same man he’d been working up to flirting with last night, as he felt Obi Wan’s weight pressing down on him. He swallowed, attempting to redirect his thoughts back to rationality. 

_ Sure I might have thought it’d be nice for him to pin me down, but not like this!  _ He thought, feeling heat rising up his neck.  _ Fuck’s sake, Anakin, focus- he could be here to  _ kill  _ you, and here you are getting hot and bothered,  _ he chastises himself, returning to the moment at hand. 

“Uh yeah, Snips seemed pretty defe- Shit, where is she?!” He tries to look around, his motion range limited. A relieved sigh escapes him as he spots her a few meters away, pacing and whimpering, having backed off when they started fighting.  _ What a little pansy-ass, _ Anakin thought, still thankful she was unharmed. 

“Snips?” Obi Wan sounded amused. Anakin tensed again, then relaxed, realizing aggression wouldn’t win him anything at this point.

“Yeah. My dog that found you sniffing around over here- so why?” He sighs, just about fed up with this evening.  _ Not at  _ all  _ how I planned,  _ he thinks, remembering back to his earlier fantasy.

Obi Wan pauses for a few moments. “Can we call this done, and take this over some food or at least go indoors somewhere to talk?” His tone is guarded now, the rough edge gone. His knee shifts against Anakin’s back, as he waits for his surrender.

Anakin rolls his eyes, inwardly glad Obi Wan can’t see him. “Yeah, I’m done throwing punches,” he starts. “Just answer me this- you’re obviously not here to hurt me or something, right?”

Obi Wan snorts. “Quite the opposite. I’m a friend,” he promises. “I only acted in defense, and to try and subdue you before  _ you _ caused  _ me _ harm.” As he says this, he shifts, stepping back and pulling off of Anakin. With the presence pinning him into the grass gone, Anakin rolls onto his back and begins to sit up.

He’s helped to his feet by Obi Wan, who then looks down as Anakin irritably rubs his sore neck. “Like I said, I acted in defense,” Obi Wan started, continuing quickly as squinting blue eyes meet his. “But that was over the top. I apologize,” he concedes. Anakin offers him a small nod of acceptance.

“Frankly, I’m fucking exhausted.” He says. Obi Wan starts to interject, until Anakin holds a hand up to stop him. “Aaaand, since you already know I live here, we can talk in my apartment?” He offers, crouching down and beckoning for Snips to come to him from where she stood, wagging anxiously. She darted towards him, and jumped into his outstretched arms, licking his face. 

Obi Wan smiled softly. “Tell her thanks for not turning me into a chew toy,” he says, almost fondly. Anakin laughs.

“Let’s head on up, so I can hear just who you are, Kenobi.” He says, straightening and facing Obi Wan. “Then you two can make nice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know I said I'd be consistent, and I tried! Really! It's just that graduation and then uh, Fallout 4 both took over my life and yeah. Sorry everyone, I'll try to be better. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and leaving comments & kudos- It means so much to me! 
> 
> Last thing- A shameless promo for my friend Tonya's fic- "Pictures of You" by Dealio is actually the Best Obikin fic there is. Far better than mine. You need to go read it, mmkay?


	4. The One With Lots of Talking and Cliches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi Wan and Anakin talk about a lot of stuff, with a, erm, steamy break in between.
> 
> (This is the beginning of where the story gets its rating from, FYI. You've been warned.)

Sitting across from the same man who had attacked him not twenty minutes ago, Obi Wan took a sip of the coffee Anakin had made for them. He waited for the other man to return from the other room where he had gone to change out of the mud and grass stained clothes, a result of their scuffle. 

Obi Wan sits back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest. He now definitely remembers most of the previous night, including his encounter with Anakin in the brightly-lit bathroom, where he more or less checked him out. He felt heat rise up his neck, and hoped to any deity out there that Anakin hadn’t noticed that. 

The blond interrupted his thoughts as he returned to the main room of the apartment, less-than-gracefully sliding into the chair across from Obi Wan. He now wears a pair of black joggers and a nondescript gray band tee shirt, Obi Wan notices. A look far more casual than Obi Wan would ever try to pull off in front of others, he thinks, but one that works on Anakin.

“So,” the younger man finally speaks. “I guess you already know that I’m Anakin Skywalker.” He looks at Obi Wan, guarded suspicion still clear in his expression. “And you’re Obi Wan Kenobi. But  _ how _ do you know who I am?”

Obi Wan deliberates on how much he should tell Anakin, unsure if Padme wanted all of the details on the table. He decides that if Padme’s intentions are to truly have her ex-fiancee home, she would want him to know the  _ whole _ truth. 

“I’m a private investigator,” he begins, watching as Anakin’s expression turns to surprise and slight worry. “And a few days ago, I heard from an old friend.” 

He took a sip of his coffee, considering how he should continue. “My wife was a politician,” he starts. “She worked in the senate office, and was the representative from Mandalore for almost a full term.” He murmurs, trailing off towards the end. “Anyways, she had a close friend in the offices who was a few years younger, but showed promise, so she became a mentor to her of sorts.”

  
Anakin looks more confused than anything now, his head tilted slightly. “I can’t say I pay too much attention to politics these days,” he apologizes. “I just...don’t. I don’t know why."

Obi Wan smiles somewhat grimly.  _ This is old news anyways, and it happened a bit away from home. He wouldn’t know who Satine was, so I can avoid that detail I suppose,  _ he thinks.

“It’s really not important, aside from the fact that my wife’s friend’s name is Padme Amidala.” He says.

\---

_ Thank God,  _ Anakin thinks, relieved that he wasn’t in some sort of trouble with the government or something. Annoyance replaces his relief, however, when he remembers that it was  _ Padme _ who sent Obi Wan to find him.  _ Why does it matter to her? _ He thinks, peeved.

“So you know Padme, then,” he said after a few moments, shrugging. “I don’t know what to say, except I feel as though she wasted your time.” Anakin ducked his head, Obi Wan assumed to hide the true expression behind those words.

Obi Wan shrugged, in a sort of mockery of Anakin. “I suppose.” He swallowed the rest of his coffee. “But peace of mind for an old friend is never a waste, in my mind.” He said softly, leaning towards Anakin. “Do you understand how worried she was, though?”

Anakin can’t help but sigh. “I think that it’s really not her place to worry...You wouldn’t understand that though, I suppose. Married and all,” he says bitterly. As soon as he says this, he feels a pang of  _ something _ , though he’s not sure what.  _ I could’ve sworn he was almost...flirty last night.  _ He thinks.  _ Of course, this could just be my own subconscious trying to believe that he was actually into me. _

Obi Wan bites back a rather angry remark at Anakin’s words, grief mixing with his annoyance. “You do not presume to know what I do or do not understand.” He says sharply, clenching a fist around the handle of the mug before him. 

_ Way to go, dumbass, _ Anakin squeezes his eyes shut, not wanting to meet the other man’s intense gaze. After a moment, he opens them again. 

“My apologies,” he murmurs. “I guess I don’t, huh?” He waits for the other man’s response, as he is currently motionless across from Anakin. Slight relief relaxes him as Obi Wan exhales, nodding.

“Yes. You don’t.” He says, short, yet not as sharp. “When I say wife...I suppose she  _ was _ my wife. But she passed away a few years ago, close to five now.” He says softly, keeping his gaze locked on his hands on the table. His temper is still boiling, just below the surface of his skin, but he knows that it wouldn’t result in anything good to act on it. Especially when he could feel bruises forming from his earlier lapse in temper control with Anakin. 

“God, Obi Wan. I’m so fucking sorry,” Anakin reaches across the table and rests his hand on top of Obi Wan’s, sincerity in his blue eyes. “I...I was really insensitive. I had no idea.” He murmurs, ignoring the tingling feeling where their skin touches.

Obi Wan jerks his head up, meeting the other man’s gaze. His expression is defensive for a heartbeat, but then relaxes, as he says “It’s okay, Anakin. You didn’t know.” 

Silence between them seems to stretch on for an eternity, as they just sit there, not moving. Anakin notes that Obi Wan has not pulled his hand away yet, and feels the warmth of the other man’s skin on his palm. 

Finally, the older man moves. “I suppose I should apologize for passing out on you last night,” he says, pulling his hand away to scratch the back of his neck. “I usually don’t drink  _ that _ much to pass out, not anymore.” He says nonchalantly.

  
Anakin smiles, feeling a pang of sadness at how casually Obi Wan brings up the drinking. “It’s no problem,” he says softly, while thinking about how  _ he _ would’ve coped, had he been in the other man’s shoes. “I’m glad I only had to haul you a few blocks, though.” He laughs softly.

Obi Wan’s face grows red, a blush rising on his cheeks. “Right. Erm. Thank you, truly. Not many would’ve done that.” He says, trying to force away the thought of Anakin literally  _ carrying _ him back to his hotel. 

_ I had figured it wouldn’t be the last time I would go to that room, _ he thinks, biting his lip and feeling somewhat ashamed.  _ Dammit Anakin. Really. He just talked about his dead wife and you’re already back to your little fantasy?  _

Obi Wan coughs, breaking the momentary silence. “I suppose I ought to head back to the hotel, speaking of,” he says, glancing at the clock on the stove behind them.  **4:00** . 

“Do you have a car here or need a taxi?” Anakin blurts out. Obi Wan shakes his head. 

“No,” he says, grimacing. “I thought it would be less obvious to just walk…” The expression on his face shows that he is regretting that decision now. 

“I’ll drive you back then. It’s the least I could do.” Anakin quickly responds, already on his feet, keys in hand. 

Obi Wan smirks. “The second time I’ve relied on you to get me home, then.” He laughs, heading for the door.

_ But hopefully not the last,  _ Anakin thinks, closing and locking the door behind them.

\---

Obi Wan smirks as he pushes Anakin against the door frame, their lips locked in a frantic, heated kiss. One hand slides from Anakin’s shoulders and into his messy blond hair, tangling in the curls at the base of his neck. 

Anakin’s hands are grasping his hips, desperately trying to pull him closer. Obi Wan stands firm, tightening his grip in his hair, earning a soft moan from the other man. He pulls back from the kiss, meeting Anakin’s lust-filled gaze, their chests heaving. 

He says nothing, a challenge in his expression, waiting for Anakin to make the next move. He barely waits another heartbeat before Anakin draws him close again, pulling him close against himself, their hips aligning now. He allows the blond to take the lead for a bit, enjoying the loss of control as Anakin slowly starts to grind against him.

Another soft moan is drawn out from Anakin as he gently pulls his lower lip between his teeth, slowly opening his eyes to look into Anakin’s heavy-lidded ones, before moving again. He brings his hands from where they wrapped around the taller man’s neck down to his hips, sliding his own calloused hands under Anakin’s thin tee shirt. 

Alternating between soft grazes and the sharp drag of nails, he explores Anakin’s torso, the hardened muscle of his chest and the wide planes of his back. He is stopped, suddenly, when Anakin pulls back. 

“Did I-?” He starts to ask, then realizes as Anakin tugs the shirt over his head, flinging it aside aimlessly. 

  
“Figured I’d make things easier,” he says breathlessly, returning to Obi Wan and leaning down to kiss him once more. He stops Anakin, wordlessly pushing him back towards the bed. The back of Anakin’s knees hit the edge of the mattress, and he flops back across the bed, watching as Obi Wan climbs up next to him, pressing his lips to Anakin’s neck. 

Teeth and lips graze against his tanned skin, leaving Anakin a squirming mess. He drags his own nails down Obi Wan’s back, his own arching as the other man’s teeth tug at his earlobe.

“Please,” he groans out, trying once more to pull Obi Wan close to him, desperate for friction. Obi Wan smirks, continuing on his trail of kisses, slow and methodical. 

“Please what?” He says smugly, lowering his voice as he speaks next to Anakin’s ear, the younger man visibly shivering. 

Anakin doesn’t respond, only moves his hands down Obi Wan’s back, winding them around his torso and between the two of them, trying to work at Obi Wan’s belt. He realizes this, laughing as he pulls Anakin’s hands away and above his head.

While he  _ could _ resist, as they were fairly matched in strength, Anakin decided against it, letting Obi Wan pin his arms down to the mattress with one hand, while the other one started a path down his chest, lazily circling a nipple before moving more, stopping just above Anakin’s belt, tickling at the flat plane of sensitive skin there.

“I’ll repeat: please  _ what _ ?” He growls, his breath brushing Anakin’s ear. 

Anakin groans, tugging his arms against Obi Wan’s grip. “Fucking hell,” he grits out, as lips and then teeth tug at one of his nipples. “Just  _ fucking fuck me already! _ ”

Obi Wan smirks, releasing Anakin’s wrists. “Well why didn’t you just ask?” He sits back as Anakin quickly undoes and pulls his belt off, then tugs at Obi Wan’s pants. 

“Eager, hm?” Obi Wan murmurs, as Anakin pulls his pants and boxers off, carelessly tossing them to the corner of the room. A firm, calloused hand grips him, drawing a moan (which is more needy than Obi Wan would like to admit) from his throat. Anakin smirks down at him, now-

 

And then Obi Wan jerks awake, sweaty and rock-hard. He stares into the darkness, chest heaving as he collects himself.

_ Ah. Fuck. _ He thinks, flopping back on the pillows.  _ Not a good situation to be in. _

\---

When he wakes up later, he remains in bed for far longer than necessary, staring at the ceiling as his dream from earlier flashes before his eyes. 

_ This is a whole new low, even for you, Kenobi. _ He feels his face heat up in embarrassment.  _ Hot dreams about a friend’s boyfriend? Are you back in high school? _

As if Anakin was even attracted to him in the slightest. Obi Wan sighed. 

In any case, he was certain Padme had not sent him here to set him up with Anakin, but to send him home where they would reconcile, and resume their relationship. After all, what other reason could she have for wanting Anakin to return to Naboo?

A knock on his door interrupted his train of thought.

“Just a second!” He jumped out of bed, searching for pants to throw on to answer the door. Another impatient knock came as he wriggled his hips, pulling an old pair of jeans up and buttoning them.

“ _ Sorry,  _ I just wo-” he stopped speaking as he pulled the door open fully to see Anakin there, a white paper bag and two coffee cups balanced on one of those cheap cardboard drink carriers from fast food restaurants. 

What halted him was not the food, rather, the soft smile on the taller man’s face. 

When he said nothing, Anakin nodded towards the room. “Can I uh, come set these down?”

Obi Wan blinked, still feeling like he was dreaming. 

“Oh- yes, sorry.” He said quickly, stepping aside as Anakin brushed past him, feeling as though sparks flew off of the taller man’s skin onto him. He slowly turned, still a bit dazed.

  
Anakin flopped down into one of the small chairs at the table with all the grace of a baby giraffe, or, none, essentially. Obi Wan couldn’t help but chuckle a little as he lowered himself into the chair opposite him, as Anakin raised an offended eyebrow. 

“Sorry,” he continued to laugh. “I uh, thought of something funny.” He trailed off.

“You can’t laugh at a guy and  _ not _ tell him the story behind it!” Anakin scowled, then smiled to show he was mostly teasing. He looked at Obi Wan expectantly as he nudged the paper bag towards him. “Go ahead and take your pick,” he said.

Opening the bag, Obi Wan’s fondness for Anakin grew as he saw a variety of donuts inside. While he had a fairly consistent and healthy diet, the sugary breakfast pastries were his guilty pleasure. 

“A man after my own heart,” he joked. Anakin’s beaming smile only made him happier as he took a pastry out and then pushed the bag back to him. 

Their conversations over breakfast were lighthearted and random, smiles and laughter in between bites of sugary donuts. Anakin idly noticed how Obi Wan’s eyes crinkled when he smiled or laughed, which was often. Obi Wan observed as Anakin became more comfortable, his smile loosening and becoming more natural, less awkward. 

After a while, Obi Wan sat back, brushing the crumbs from the week-old stubble on his face. “So,” he asked. “What brings you over here this morning?” 

Anakin paused; he  _ did _ have a reason, he just...forgot.  _ Oh, right. Padme. _

“I just was curious about what you were doing next….” he trailed off. Then he sighed. “...and what you planned on telling Padme.”

Obi Wan said nothing, taking a sip of the coffee, now cold. Anakin could feel the anxiety growing in his chest as the silence stretched on, unsure of what to do.

Finally, he spoke. “Well,” he said. “Padme  _ is _ the reason I’m here. I owe her something, do I not? Plus, she’s an old friend, so I doubly owe it to her.” He chuckles softly.

Anakin smiles at his laughter, appreciating the deep laugh. Then he grows serious again, clasping his hands together as he rested them on the table. 

“What if,” he suggested, tone aloof. “You don’t tell her I’m here and just say you can’t do it. I was too elusive.” He winked at the end.

Obi Wan rolled his eyes. “What, and make myself sound like a half-competent detective? I don’t think so.” He snorted. “Why don’t you want Padme to know, Anakin?” 

His throat tightening, Anakin shook his head. 

  
“Stupid of me, really, but-”

“I disagree. What’s the problem?” Obi Wan interrupted him softly, reaching out to take his hand gently. He seemed almost as startled as Anakin was as he grasped his hand back, and meeting his gaze. 

He briefly relaxed, then suddenly pulled his hand out of Obi Wan’s and stood up as abruptly and clumsily as he had sat in the first place. Obi Wan was startled by how completely unhinged he seemed, biting his lip and pacing.

“Anakin.” His voice was soft and firm, breaking the moment of panic. Anakin stopped, looking at Obi Wan again.

He sat on the end of his bed, looking at the taller man expectantly. When Anakin didn’t move, he patted the top of the mattress next to him, indicating that he come sit. 

Sitting down now, Anakin tucks his legs up underneath him, noticeably calmer. 

“Do you want to talk about it now?” Obi Wan asks, still entirely confused and bewildered, but concerned as well.

“It’s less about Padme,” Anakin starts, fiddling with his thumbs as he talks. “And more about my mom dying.”    
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope to have chapter five up a week from now, so stay tuned for that!  
> As always, thanks to Tonya (dealio) for helping edit and fix things with this story. Again- go check her writing out! She's amazing.


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